Wash Your Worries Down the Drain
by csipal
Summary: GSR. Post LD


A/N: Thanks to LK for giving this a quick once-over. Yet another post LD fic. Blech – sue me.

* * *

Discharge had taken longer than expected.

That was the reason Sara supplied herself five minutes into their drive home. Their _silent_ drive home. Other than the quick "good morning" she had received when he'd arrived to pick her up, no words of personal relevance had been spoken between the two of them.

There'd been that paperwork debacle that had taken way too long to clear up and the many trips from the room to the car to pack all the gifts and flowers. He'd seemed stressed and worried. Sara supposed he had a right to be, but today's behavior didn't make sense after two weeks of his over-attentiveness.

"I need a bath," Sara stated, needing to hear more than just the tires hitting bumps in the road - even it was just her own voice. "A really long bath, with lots of soap. Sponge baths and that half-assed shower I was finally allowed to take are not my thing. I feel dirty, and after two weeks I swear I still have mud on me somewhere."

Not getting a response, she threw him a sidelong glance and continued, "Catherine mentioned that sher and Nick were going to stop by tomorrow. Chinese is on the menu. I told them that they better not walk through the door without extra crispy noodles for your egg drop soup."

She decided that the sound that emitted from his mouth was a grunt of appreciation.

Sara reached beside her to pull the lever on her seat, adjusting the back into a more comfortable position. She'd come far in her recovery, but her body still hurt pretty much all the time. She'd been lucky they found her when they had.

Chancing another look at Grissom, she noticed that he was knawing at his lower lip. Something had him bothered and she wondered if it posibly could be the reveal of their realtionship. In the chaos of her rescue, she'd remembered Grissom coming to her side. His desperate grasp and his loving words, his gentle kiss... and Catherine, Nick, Warrick, Greg and Brass with front row seating to it all. She'd been cold, in pain and so very tired, but her first thought at that moment was, "Oh crap." Later, she'd found out that he had let it slip during the frantic hours of their searching.

Were there reprocusions that she didn't know about? Did something happen at work that he didn't inform her of?

"It's going to be weird having them over and being in our space - well, your space, really," she stated, gauging his reaction. "In the hospital, I knew they knew and they knew that I knew, but... I don't know. I think it was easy to just ignore it in that setting."

With less than two miles until they reached his home, Sara decided that talking was overrated and joined her lover in his silence.

"Well, we're here." Her tone a little more than resigned. With a click of the button, the seatbelt retracted swiftly and she moved to get out of the car.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop!" Grissom's sudden exclamation rendered her frozen in surprise. He jogged around the front of the car to her door. It was when he opened the door and took hold of her elbows with a shaky grasp that she realized the problem.

He wasn't angry. He was scared.

Grissom supported her as she stood and then gently guided her into his home. She may live at her appartment three days out of seven, but this was her home and she was more than happy to be in this space and around the things that comforted her.

One of those comforting things came running around the corner just then, eager to have the attention of his much missed mom.

"Hey there, boy. I've missed you." Sara bent over to pet the boxer when his over zealous behavior had him jumping up at her.

"Reggie, down!" Grissom took Reggie by the collar and held him down.

"Gil-"

"You just got home from the hospital, the dog does not need to be jumping on you."

She wanted to be angry, but couldn't really fault him for being careful. While her recovery had been swift so far, Sara knew that she couldn't handle their dog tackling her like he used to.

"You're right," she agreed, stifling a yawn.

"You should be in bed."

"Uh uh, not until I bathe."

"At least lay down while I get your bath ready," he said as he guided her into their room. Once she was settled on the bed, he left to draw her water.

She didn't realize she had dozed off until she felt his fingers glide over her forehead, swiping her hair away from her face. When Sara opened her eyes, she couldn't quite decipher the look his own eyes held. While she felt very loved in this moment, she despised the circumstances.

"Do you still want your bath? You could go back to sleep."

"No, I'm ready."

Life was fleeting, and she knew if the roles were reversed she would never want to leave his side. She would want to take care of him and hold him and shield him from harm. It was that knowledge that helped her rein in her independence and let him take the lead.

Grissom unbuttoned her shirt slowly, taking in the angry bruises and sores. "Do you want to change the bandages after your bath or just try to avoid getting them wet?"

"Change them. I don't want to worry about it."

His careful care made the removal of the tape rather painless. The feel of his lips brushing each one with a ghost of a kiss may have helped.

The third attempt to put up her hair went about as well as the first, so when she offered to do it herself, Grissom handed over the elastic with pleasure.

"I'm sorry."

Twisting the elastic and flipping her hair through in a messy ponytail, she asked, "For what?"

"For letting her take you." Self deprecation never suited anybody, but hearing it in his voice just made her hurt.

"You had no control over that," she argued as he helped her into the water. Getting into that reclining position had been painful, but once she did, she was able to stretch out and let her body relax.

Grissom wet her bath sponge and began soaking her body, keeping his gaze away from her's. "Didn't I? It should never have gotten to this point."

"It's not your fault. Look at me." He stopped what he was doing and met her eyes. "You found me and I'm going to be fine."

"Yeah, you are," he agreed, allowing a small smile to escape.

"Does it hurt?" he asked when he reached her legs, looking into her eyes for any indication of pain.

"Not when you touch me."

Grissom's grimace as he trailed his hands back up her legs came as no surprise to her. She'd silently lamented over the state of her legs during her last few days at the hospital. Way past the point of prickly stubble, she was sure the hair was long enough to braid.

"Hey, it _has_ been two weeks," she defended.

Grissom reached across Sara for her shaving cream and razor in the shower caddy. "May I?"

After receiving her nod of approval, Grissom carefully raised her leg, resting it on the side of the tub. He carefully applied the white, frothy cream in gentle strokes, paying careful attention her still present injuries.

"Do you trust me?"

His query was soft and unsure, and barely carried over the steady drip from the spout. She remembered a time when she had posed that same question to him – she'd never responded in kind.

From her position her reach was limited, and sleep threatened to take her under. Though she still was able to brush her fingertips across his check, leaving a trail of wetness behind. "With my life."

_Fin_


End file.
